''Leo Nucci has returned to his roots'', the sleeve-note informs us. The question is what has he done with them? It appears he brought along some amici musicisti and their instruments, which included a white grand piano (I don't know that it was white but it has that kind of association). When they got back to the roots they naturally pulled them up to have a look at them, and although they were very nice roots it was observed that they were a little fusty and that some bits of earth were still clinging to them. So they were given a good soaking and generally made to look more presentable, more of a social asset in the modern world at large. It was here that the man with the white piano came in handy, for he had a special preparation which without putting anybody to any great trouble would make them look like new. In fact it made them look, taste and feel just like marshmallow.The treatment is perhaps better than that favoured by singers who like to have a big glitzy orchestra and Who's-a-clever-boy for the arranger. It involves a small instrumental group, with the pianist-arranger at the centre, and some of the songs, notably those from films, respond not too badly. The older ones, O sole mio, Musica proibita, Non t'amo piu and so forth, are distorted and the style of singing is affected by the arrangements. Every so often Nucci performs with straightforward operatic passion, bringing in some of his famous high-notes, and he is best when doing this; the quieter singing tends to degenerate into something which goes out to meet the microphone and modem pop-conditioned taste. These 'roots' are perhaps not the noblest of their kind, but they deserve more respect than this.'